The Twilit Lady
by FlaxDragons
Summary: "You do not belong in the desert, shadow woman." Ganondorf of the Gerudo glares down at me with a nonchalant expression of distaste. "Oh, and how do you mean?" Seven years past and seven years of the Hero disappeared to the Realm of Twilight by mysterious forces. Twilit Lady Midna has been thrust back into the Realm of Light, and she may need to seek the aid of an unexpected ally.
1. A Stranger to Ordon

"Colin, get me my sword!" The boy, more a man than a boy now, hurries to obey the hissed orders, scurrying back into the house, eyes still blurry with the grime of sleep. The house is near silent save for the soft breath of his mother and sister; the latter is asleep in one of the chairs by the fire, her feet curled up under a blanket and slack hands just barely clutching a doll. Careful not to wake her, he snatches the sword from atop the cabinet where it lay safely out of the reach of small hands and darts back outside.

Whatever it was his father had confronted, it appears not to be Ordonian, or even Hylian. From beneath the heavy silken hood of its cloak – the garment is beautiful, with bright blue patterns lacing along it like cracks in ice – its eyes burn with a bright light, orange amber circles with bright blue at their center. Its teeth, just barely visible between its parted lips, are not quite sharp as needles, but certainly appeared intimidating, giving off a soft glow like the glimmer of a dragonfly. In its hand is a bow, and though not nocked, arrows notched with blue feathers and tipped in black stone just barely poke over the edge of its shoulder.

"What do you want, stranger?" Rusl strides down the soft grass of the hilly yard, sword now latched about his hip, a hand on the hilt. Though he is not overtly threatening, Colin knows his father has come to be suspicious of people, whether human or not, wandering into town after dark. Especially if said wanderer was carrying a bow oiled and primed to shoot.

The stranger pauses, his oddly double colored eyes narrowing and widening, as though he could not see properly. Colin decides that it is a he, with wideness in the shoulders and the narrowness of the hips. But the stranger is awfully short, shorter even than him, and as much as he has grown, Colin is no giant.

"I said, what are you doing all the way out in here in Ordon?" His father tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword, just barely lifting it from its sheath. The stranger pauses, eyes darting to the sword slowly emerging from its leather casing. He sees the danger in Rusl's movement, but he still remains silent. The rustling of bushes in the night breezes is the only sound for several moments, when suddenly the stranger whips an arrow from his quiver and nocks it. The blue feathers leave streaks of light in the air for a few seconds before they fade to blackness.

The arrow soars just over Rusl's shoulder and both he and his son dive out of the way, crashing into the dust beside the path to the forest. Rusl bellows with fury as he struggles to his feet, sword completely free from its sheath. He charges at the stranger, swinging the blade with a good amount of strength. The stranger just manages to dodge the sharp edge, stumbling backwards as his feet hit the ground. The expression on his near hidden features are not vicious, however, only confused and dazed, as though he has received several blows in the past few moments.

"I will not take monsters wandering into my town and threatening our safety!" Rusl surges forward again, this time thrusting the blade in a stab. This time, the blade grazes the stranger's side, and he releases a very loud hissing gasp. The sword tears the gorgeous silk garment and draws blood, red as any human's, and he tumbles backward to the grass, clutching the wound as crimson stains his skin.  
Rusl moves to deal the finishing blow, but the stranger seems to be two steps ahead of him. He pulls something from the grass besides him and puts it to his lips. A few soft notes sound out and suddenly a bird calls in the distance, despite the time of night. A hawk, talons black as the sky, lands on the stranger's outstretched arm and takes off again just as quickly as the stranger directs it at Rusl. The bird screeches as it digs its talons into the man's flesh, and he drops the sword.

"Farore, Nayru, and Din!" The cry echoed loud enough to turn lights in some houses, and Colin scuttles to his father's side to pull the creature off of him. It is big enough to give him trouble, but he pries the bird's claws from Rusl's shoulder, who rolls to his feet as soon as the hawk has flown off. "Where did he get to? Is he still here?"

The only remnant of the stranger is a stain of red on the ground, and Colin shrugs. "I think you scared him off, Pa. It's lucky you only got some bird claws in you. That arrow near shot your ear off."

"Yeah, he was fast." Rusl wipes his blade on the grass and sheathes it. "I think we'll have to have patrols again. I know the problems in Hyrule don't usually spread this far, but it's just like seven years ago."

Colin nods noncommittally, glancing off in the direction of the forest. Why only one, though? If someone had conquered Hyrule – again! – then they would more than likely send a brigade after them, considering what kind of heroes came from Ordon. Though to be fair, Link had been Hylian.

Pulling his head from his own thoughts, Colin realizes that his father has already made his way back to the house, and is conferring with his wife in low tones. She stands on the porch with Orial in her arms, worried expression on her face. Whatever the stranger had wanted, he had been too close to the house for comfort, too close to Colin's family for comfort. The last thing he wants is a repeat of last time, though his sword skills still do not measure up to his father's, and he has to stop his horse to shoot any target. But this was only one occurrence, and what chance was there that it would reach them again?

"Pa, do you mind if I go check the fence at the edge of the woods?" Colin adjusts his belt as he sprints up the hill to his house, pausing to give his mother a quick hug. "I want to see if it's been damaged."

"Go ahead, just be sure to take your bow." Rusl gestures to the wooden bow hung from the hook by the door, and Colin obliges, strapping the quiver across his shoulder. The smell of oiled wood sets the back of his neck to tingling, and the feel of the soft leather of the quiver strap calms his nerves ever so slightly. "And why don't you take the stream cave through the spring, hm? I don't want you going the main way unless you have to. There might be more of…whatever that was and you're not good enough with the bow or the sword to go against too many at once."

"But Pa, I just dried these shoes out the other day!"

"No buts, listen to your father." His mother kisses him on the forehead, being careful not to wake Orial. "You can put them in front of the fire later, alright?"

"Alright." He waves a goodbye and trampled down the steps and across the yard of wildflowers in the front of their house. Approaching the cave, though, something catches the very corner of his vision and he spins to root through the grass just near the back of his house.

The blue fletched arrow had found home in the breast of the keese with perfect accuracy, shattering breast bone and nearly blowing the whole thing apart. Even in death, the thing's face is like a skull, teeth long as Colin's little finger. Black mud seeps from the creature's wound, and he tugs the arrow from corpse.

Perhaps this stranger has different intentions than he first thought.


	2. Waking to the Sun

I wake to a splitting headache and a mouthful of sand. The air tastes like heat and fire, and when I roll over the gritty silt and sand beneath me scratches my skin. Where am I? I hadn't thought that a few glasses of obsidian wine would do something like this to-

Oh. I hesitate for a moment, organizing the jumble of hazy memories in my head, like trying to piece together a puzzle with no edges and no picture. The Light, the decaying Twilight, a hundred frightened Twili running in fear. Link's face as he is crushed beneath the claws of some archaic demon. The Light creature.

I sit up and dust the sand from my face and clothes, examining the surrounding area. Surprisingly, I am in the Mirror Chamber, the shards of the mirror still long buried in the sand surrounding the altar. Shadow protects me from the sun, the rim of the surrounding columns just barely making an area big enough for me. I draw my legs to my body, grimacing at the ugly white burns on the very tips of my toes.

"That was not a very good party." Memories rattle the inside of my skull like dice in a cup, and each one brings a new throb of agony to the back of my eyeballs. How long had I been here now? It is clearly early morning, with the sun shining too bright in the sky, which has been bleached white by the heat of the day. I shed my over robes, which leaves me in nothing but a white silken slip and black trousers.

"Anything party worth having must be enjoyable." The voice freezes me like the cold of the mountains, ice trickling through my veins. No one came here. The only way to get to the Mirror Chamber is through the Arbiter's Grounds, and only a fool would brave those. My eyes dart from corner to corner trying to discern the speaker, but even the shadows are illuminated enough to show that the Chamber is empty.

Still alert, I take stock of my situation. It would be possible to cross the desert during the day, but I would have to wear the cloak and be careful not to let it slip. Where would I go? Princess Zelda may offer me refuge, but that won't return me home. None of the other races have as much influence in magic. Perhaps I could seek the temple of Time; the magic there has aged for thousands upon thousands of years, and finding a way home would not be unlikely. But only those accepted by the forest can navigate the Lost Woods, and Link is the only person I've ever seen do it.

I stare off into the desert through the pillars in a daze, unaware of the chain scraping against the ground behind me. Something moves in the deepest shadows of the great sun goddess, whose name I cannot recall, and the chain once again clicks against the ground. This time I hear it, and whirl about just in time to see the silhouette nearly on top of me.

He is different this time than I remember. The near black gray of his skin has turned a reddish brown, making the ugly rift of a scar on his bare chest all the more noticeable. The tight curls that once kept his blazing hair tamed are loose, leaving his beard a scraggly mess across the lining of his jaw. Contempt glints in his eyes, which are so cherry red that I nearly find it funny, though the pit of furious dread in my stomach prevents that.

"You do not belong in the desert, shadow woman." Ganondorf of the Gerudo glares down at me with a nonchalant expression of distaste. He shifts and my body jumps, crouching into a protective position, finding the empty loop for my rapier at my hip. I think I amuse him, because a low and dry chuckle drips from lips cracked by wind and sand. "But do not be afraid. I cannot harm anyone like this."

"Oh? And how do you mean?" I keep my voice, but my position never shifts. Though I have no weapon, I could easily distract and wound him with magic. "How are you even here? You should be trapped between shadow and light. I saw it happen."

His arms fold across his massive barrel of a chest in a defensive position. Defensive? He is a demon, he has no need to defend anything. "I think you misunderstand. You and your little farm boy are not the only ones with the ability to travel across the planes."

"And you can?"

"Oh no." He shakes his head, turning around to pace back into the light. Suddenly I notice the chain, and how it connects to the circle of blackest iron around his neck. It is magic; ancient Hylian glows in lines and designs on the surface, so old that even I cannot read it, and I have been taught the languages of the ages. With every step, tiny spider web veins of red and black pulse from the skin where the iron touches. But then he turns again, and my attention returns to his face, a mask of weathered scars.

"You think I have the power to do a thing such as that? I am not a Goddess, nor am I their hero." He frowns down at me, but not in a way that seems sinister. He almost appears…tired. "I am a beaten up cupboard for them to hide their dirty secrets in. Or at least I was."

His words make me hesitate, and I straighten myself. "But you are a possessor of the Triforce, and that of Power. I would not be surprised if you could trudge through a pool of molten magma and come out with cold hands. I'm surprised you haven't snapped the chain and torn the bonds around your neck."

"You think I would remain if I still had my rightful piece of the Triforce?" This time the laughter is dark and angry, like thunderclouds on the horizon. But I am not cowed. I can nearly smell the bitterness in his voice. "The demon stole it. If it were not so, I would have rent this temple apart and then rode across the sands on the back of the wind."

I frown. "But only those of the heavens can truly control the Triforce. No demon exists that could simply take it."

"It matters little, and I know little of true demons." He holds up his right hand, and I see an ugly black mark in the shape of a diamond, the surface shiny like the weal of a burn. I reach to touch it, glance at Ganondorf's face, and then slide a single finger across the surface. A jolt travels down my arm, as though I have just struck a blade against stone, and I snatch my hand away.

"It is infernally wrong. You're wrong. You shouldn't be able to exist like this."

"But I do. And it hurts like you wouldn't believe." He clutches the hand to the scar on his chest, as though his heart is troubling him. "But you are here as well. You should not be here."

"Neither should you."

"Ah, but I am, as you say, evil. You know I am more than likely up to something." He waves a hand. "But you have people in the Twilight Realm. I am here because someone summoned me. But why are you here?"

I remember the events of the previous night. "Because something has gotten into the Twilight Realm. Something of the Light Realm that is evil and angry and ancient. It dragged me from a celebration last night, along with a…good friend of mine."

"A demon that can travel between planes, it seems." He sags against the wall, a thought filtering just behind his eyes. "Perhaps our problems are not so separate."

I jump to the offensive again. "And I am assume it is you setting monsters on people across the planes, hm? I'm surprised you didn't have a traitor in my palace again."

He rolls his eyes and I have to bite back a scathing retort. "Did I not just say I was summoned? Some imbecile performed a demon summoning ceremony and managed to pry me from the Dark Realm. He stole the Triforce as well, then chained me here like some dog. I would much rather be with the Goddesses right now, trust me. This place has left a bad taste in my mouth and I'm ready to move on."

I gather my cloak from the sandy floor. I should move soon; the sooner I get out of this Goddess forsaken desert, the sooner I can find a solution to this mess. "You would rather die than be chained here? Isn't that a bit drastic?"

"My lady, I was expelled from my people at an early age. The only aspiration I had after that was to make Hyrule mine, and even now the anger and ambition has long been drained from me." He shrugs, and adjusts the waistband of his pants. Those are his only clothes; a pair of loose trousers. Not even sandals. "I am over a hundred years old, even if my face does not show it. There's nothing left for me here."

"You sound like a man who has little to lose." A plan is forming in my mind. I really would rather not resort to this, but in the desert I am nearly useless during the day.

"I am a man who has nothing to lose." Ganondorf stares down at me and I realize that though he is sparing in the wrinkle department, time has carved different lines into his face. His nose is crooked with a poorly healed break, a line splitting his left eyebrow and crossing his forehead. Patches around his jaw show where fire once burned him, and one of his ears is near gone. Time had not treated him well.

"Then why don't I offer you a deal?" I stride up to him, careful not to reveal any worry in my steps. He follows my movement like a mouse watching a sleeping cat, and I manage to glean a good deal of satisfaction from his expression. "I can cut your chain here and you help me across the desert. Something to do while you wait for your end, as you seem to really want."

His eyes narrow. "You cannot destroy these bonds. This collar is imbued with the strength of the ancients. You would need the sages to even unlock it, let alone break it."

"True. But I can at least snap the chain." I kick at the thick links of the chain. "You may not be able to use magic, but who knows? Maybe while we're wandering, you can find someone with enough power to unlock it."

"And why would I help you?"

"Because you are the type of man who requires a purpose. I know your kind. You cannot sit still." Yes, I do know his kind. I spot it in the uncomfortable fiddling of a single of his heavy hands, in the near invisible strain he keep is under to keep his back straight. Even if he had conquered Hyrule, I doubt he would have made the most knowledgeable of kings, or at least not of the Hylian type. More likely to rule from horseback than the castle, I think.

He measures me with his eyes, as though I've suddenly transformed before him or some nonsense. To be fair, the most words we've ever exchanged are insults thrown across the flagstones of Castle Hyrule, and I suppose my offer is a bit…unexpected. I scowl back at him in equal measure, and we stand there for a good several moments in a standoff, neither of us willing to back off.

He gives though, and glances away from my face and to the sandy ground. "I suppose wandering the desert like a blind fool with some half crazed she devil is better than biting at my own heels here. But what happens when we reach the edge of Hylian territory? Wait around for someone to run me through with a sword?"

I chuckle as I move around to examine the chain. It looks like something they would use to constrain dragons. "Only if you want to. It took use about three tries to kill you with a sword made by the hands of the Goddesses themselves. I don't think a strip mongrel iron stuck to the end of a wooden hilt with a bit of rope can kill you, hm?"

"I had the power of the divine coursing through me – literally." The tension in his body tells me that he doesn't enjoy me sneaking around behind him, but he'll be fine. I draw a finger across the link in the chain and it begins to quiver, and now I see the magic in it. Not as much in the collar, but it will take more than a single cut. He's still talking though, blah blah blah.

"Besides you were nearly killed by flash of light, weren't you?" I hear the snicker in his voice, and this time I roll my eyes.

"And you were nearly killed by a seventeen year old boy who had never been outside of his village before the moment he set out to gut you with a sword that he learned how to use on his own save for the help of a man who had been dead for centuries." The chain snapped beneath my hands and I dropped the links, which crumbled to dust all the way to where it hitched to the collar. I raised my eyebrow just enough to allow my smug triumph to show.

To my surprise, instead of jumping on me the first chance he got, he just bends straight forward and folds himself in half, groaning as he stretches. "He was on behalf of the Goddesses, he does not count." When he straightens, he twists his neck and it releases a hideous popping noise. "Are you ready to forge ahead? Get knee deep in the deserts of my unfortunate childhood?"

I sweep my robe off of the ground and fasten it around my neck, yanking the hood up so the sun will not manage to burn the features off of my face. "As ready as I'll ever be."


	3. The Beginning of a Story

The sound of the water flowing over the rocks is enough to cover Colin's footsteps as he tromps through the tunnel, bow in hand and arrow dangling limply between his two fingers. The tunnel roof here nearly scrapes the top of his head, though that could be more because of his height and less because of the actual size of the cave. His pa often says his height came from his mother's side, but he's never met his grandparents, so he wouldn't know with certainty.

He hesitates as something ahead makes a noise; a rock tumbling over the riverbed, or else a bat of some sort caught in the cavern. Never too careful though, so he draws the bow taught as he rounds the corner, any noise his boots make muffled by the water.

And Colin sees him, the stranger from the village with his foreign blue feather arrows and that odd cloak. He's shored up on a small bit of sand and stones collected along the wall, heels just barely in the water and curled over himself. A hand clasps the wound Rusl inflicted on him, which turns out to be more than just a flimsy scrape. Crimson stains the silvery fabric of his shirt, leaking between pale fingers and finding its way to the sand.

The hood still conceals most of his face, but Colin catches a glance of some strange markings just below the stranger's dimly glowing eyes. Black lines, like war paint, or tattoos maybe. They stand out in a stark display to the near gray shade of his face, as the blood does against his shirt. Arrow still nocked, the boy pulls himself along the wall just to the corner, keeping his eyes on the stranger the whole time.

Suddenly a jarring noise bounces off the slick walls of the cave; Colin's foot has hit a stone stacked against the wall. The stranger whips his head about and the hood drops from his face, pooling in black silken folds around his neck. A look crosses his face halfway between surprise and sudden animosity, and he draws his own bow from the strap around his chest, still clutching his side.

Colin has to concentrate for a moment to recognize the face; where it would usually be smooth and tanned from days spent working with the goats in the sun, it's pale as parchment, with scars crisscrossing it here and there. Thin flashes of red highlight the tawny hair, like someone has drawn a burning stick through it; not a natural color, but a bright ostentatious rouge.

"Link?" Colin lowers the bow as he turns the corner, the arrow once again dangling uselessly between his fingers. The stranger squints his eyes as though he's looking into the light, then lowers his own bow with a heavy sigh. He sags back against wall.

"Oh Din and Nayru, I thought it was Rusl back to gut me with that sword of his." His voice sounds worn and underused, and the bow falls to the sand beside. He opens one eye and glances sideways at Colin. "How long have I been gone? It feels like a long time, but I can never be sure."

Colin's mouth drops open in a gape, and he can just stare at the ragged man lying on the cave for a moment. Then he pulls himself together, though the look of astonishment never leaves his face. "You've been gone seven years! You brought all of us back to Ordon seven years ago and then just disappeared! How can you not know?"

He scowls as he hauls himself to his feet, pulling the cloak off from around his neck with a jerk of his hand. "You think it's easy to tell time when the suns is perpetually halfway in the sky?"

"What?"

"Er, it doesn't really matter. Ignore what I said." Despite balancing against the wall, his knees still wobble under his weight, and Colin rushes to offer him an arm. But Link just waves a hand. "I've been kept somewhere against my will for a long time. Trust me, if it was up to me I would have been back home."

"Someone locked you up?"

"I guess you could say that." With a wince, he leans down and grabs up the cloak, which goes under his hand and over the gash. "Big prison. Not bad, but I would have rather been here, trust me." For the first time he takes a good long look at Colin. "You got really tall. Though I guess seven years can do that to a person."

The expression he gives Link is a mixture of shock and what might have been confusion, but was more likely saying, 'Are you nuts?' "Even if you haven't been home in seven years, why didn't you just say something? If pa had known it was you, he wouldn't have gone after you like that?"

"My brain's still a bit scrambled." He rubs a hand over his eyes, leaving a smear of blood along his temple. "Twilight magic'll do that you, especially if you aren't accustomed to it."

"Twilight magic? Link, that's forbidden in the queendom now! No one is allowed to practice it except for the Queen's private researchers!"

"Well I haven't exactly been practicing. Have you ever even seen me pick up a spellbook?" The bleeding is mostly finished with, though Colin can still see the sickly tint to Link's face. "I wasn't practicing it, I was living in it."

"Wait, what?"

"Can we play twenty questions later?" Link inhales deeply, clutching again at the wound. "I know I've been gone for a while, but I also just had a sword nearly shoved through my side. I would really appreciate somewhere to sit down and fix the hole in my torso."

"Oh!" Colin jumps as though startled, hands tightening nervously around his bow. "Yeah, it's probably not a good thing to talk about now. You can come back to my house and ma can stitch you up."  
Shaking his head, Link pulls the bloody cloak off his side and hangs it back around his neck. "I'd really rather not go see your father right now. I have some…concerns to deal with right now that he probably wouldn't really approve of, or at least wouldn't want me bringing to Ordon and your family."

Colin's answer is slow in coming. "…Okay, but I really want to know what you're talking about, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell you later. But not now." He attempts to mount the rocks along the edge of the wall but stumbles. Colin rolls his eyes and tucks a hand around the shorter man's side, and helps him hobble to the entrance of the tunnel.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Why do you live in a tree again?" It takes a good twenty minutes to maneuver a now nearly unconscious Link up the ladder of his house, a task only made more difficult by the skulltula hatchling hidden in the vines along the tree. Colin dumps the light headed man in a chair beside the fireplace, which is blackened and filled with dust. In the years he has been gone, his home has deteriorated into a nesting place for keese and hatchling skulltula, several of which Colin has to stomp out as he looks for a medical drawer of any kind. Even a sowing kit would be good; Link is so delirious at this point that the pain wouldn't be able to make it through the cloud.

"Cause I like treesh." Link's words slur in his mouth as he balances precariously on the chair, which is in poor condition to begin with. Colin has to restrain himself from returning with a snap, and instead plunges a hand into the cupboard beside the bed, which rewards him with a bitten finger. He swears and yanks the keese from the cupboard, tossing it out the window nearby as he pulls out a crate of string and needles. He has to hand it to Link; he knew how to do a lot more than Colin does at seventeen. His ma still sows his pants up.

When he slides back down the ladder Link is asleep in the chair, though probably just from exhaustion rather than loss of blood. The snoring issuing from between his luminescent teeth is enough to wake the dead. Colin has to wonder if Twilight magic can do things like that to person; change the color of eyes and make teeth into lanterns. He remembers the cold touch of it, but in a way that kept it detached. Like it couldn't actually touch him.

But now it seems so real. Colin sees the silvery glow to Link's skin as he pulls the silky shirt away from the injury, like the soft milky glimmer of fireflies, though it feels just the same as his or any other human's might. It's lucky that he isn't awake as Colin pulls the needle through his flesh, wincing at the tug of skin beneath his fingers. The village has not gone without its fair share of injuries, but just the look of this one…the cut is clean, purposeful, necessary. It made it seem like the war was back, like it was creeping beyond the edges of the forest and into Ordon. If war came, as much as the Ordonians owed to the Queen and her cause, Colin would really prefer if she kept her country's issues to herself. Ordon did not belong to Hyrule or any other country, and after the War of Twilight seven years ago, he really does not want to see a repeat.

Snipping the thread and tying the knot, Colin examines the wound. Not the cleanest of sewing jobs, but the bleeding has mostly stopped and the underlying flesh is no longer exposed to open air. He takes a rag, wet by the water from his water skin at his waist, and cleans the blood off the wound. The water stains his hand a dark pink, and his shirt is far from saving. The glossy black cloak is far from saving, but he hangs the garment on a hook beside the door.

"Don't bother." Colin glances back to where Link has awoken on the chair, hands rubbing at his face. "I'm leaving soon again, anyway, so it doesn't really matter if it's neat or not."

"But you just got home." Colin's answer is childish, but he doesn't care. "There can't be anything more important than being home right now. The goats need to be tended, and everyone needs to hear that you're back! Pa's been looking for someone to-"

"Colin, I can't." The look on Link's face silences the boy almost immediately. It is an expression of frustration and sorrow and what might even be guilt. "I can't stay here. I've been roasting in the Twilight way too long. I need to go out and figure out what to do, especially since danger is coming again and-"

He cuts himself off, eyes wide like a deer caught in the lamplight, like he's said too much. Colin jumps on the chance. "What danger? Is the Twilight coming again? Has Hyrule been ransacked for a second time? What-"

"Hold it, hold it, I'll answer all of those in just a second." For the first time, a laugh sneaks its way into Link's voice, and he struggles to his feet and nudges one of the ancient must logs into the fireplace. He does something that Colin can't see – strikes a tinderbox, probably- and afire lights in the hearth, dispelling some of the darkness. Squinting against the sudden light, he settles back into the chair and gestures at one of the other chairs. "You might as well sit. It may take a while to actually tell you what happened."

Colin sits, buzzing with the excitement that finally, _finally_, he's getting some answers. Link curls his hands together in front of the fire, still squinting in the light. "I'm going to start with what actually happened at the beginning of the War of Twilight, when you and the other kids were still in Kakarikko, but it's a long story, so try and keep up."

And he begins.

XXXXXXXXX


	4. Burning Soles

I watch as the smoldering sun sinks below the horizon line, its final grasping brightness staining the landscape with bloody crimson and too-bright pink. He sleeps off to the side, back to me, head tucked under, and fists curled against his chest. For a moment he is vulnerable, his extra two feet no more intimidating than a grand cloak. Had we confronted him like this, I am not sure I would have been able to kill him.

The burns on my hands itch and ache, their silvery sheen tinged an unhealthy light blue. I received them from a creature made of nothing but Light, the creature that tore open the wall between Light and Twilight.

Echoing screams still throb in my head, pulsing against the back of my eyeballs and winding down into my stomach. I'm lucky I haven't eaten in some time, else my insides would be in turmoil. I try and fail once again to push the memories from the forefront of my mind, if only for a moment.

"You seem to be in a good deal of pain." I glance up from my hands and Ganondorf's eyes are open, staring straight at me. I pull the cloak tighter around me, though it doesn't really fend off the sun any better than it does his gaze, and frown at him.

"I don't really see how that's any of your business, anyway. I can watch after my own health, thank you." My reply is a bit a more standoffish than I intended, but he just shrugs and sits up, wiping the grit from his eyes. Night is perhaps a better time to travel in the desert, when the body needs to keep warm in the cold sands and the blindingly bright sun isn't overhead. I have no complaints; with no sandals, the sand would have eaten the skin from my feet. Even now, as the sun is nothing but a mere shadow on the horizon, the sand still hisses with midday heat.

"I suppose it isn't, then." He pulls his ragged shirt over his head, even if the limited cover won't provide him much heat in the chilly night. From the clothes he is wearing, he would be named a pauper anywhere else. Ragged holes line the edges of his thinly sewn pants, the soles of his sandals worn near away. Without the bulky decorative armor, the tattoos of his people gleam black in the sun; a scorpion crest with eyes a murky violet curls on his chest, the stinger menacing enough to be real. Even here though, I see the scars, lines criss-crossed back and forth over his skin, as well as the ugly indentation where the sword of the sages once pierced.

With the sun set, I climb to my feet without fear of injury. Even in the shadows, the heat had been near unbearable, but the night carries blessed relief. "I hope you know where we should start, because I haven't been here for seven years, and the desert is surprisingly empty of landmarks."

"Of course I know the way," he mutters, nearly under his breath. "I grew up here. You just have to know how to read the sands. But you are the ever famous Twilit Lady, aren't you? You wouldn't know a star from an oil lamp."

I ignore him for a good portion of the trip. But he's right; the stars above jumble like fireflies over Lake Hylia, and I cannot pick out the individual constellations at all. The going is rough; the sand shifts constantly beneath our feet, and I nearly fall several times. Cold brings our breath into visibility, puffs of air streaming against our faces in the still night air.

With a steady rhythm established, though, I retreat into my mind, only paying Ganondorf attention enough not lose my way. My thoughts turn to Link; he too had been thrust into the Light world. I saw it happen. But where was he? Why had we not landed in the same place?

But perhaps it was better if he was lost, trapped in the Twilight Realm for seven years of his life. I had often overheard him saying that he did not regret it, but I think this was a lie. We're friends, closer friends than I have ever been allowed to have as candidate for the seat of Twilit, but his life is here. The Twilit Realm is not made for humans, whether they be Hylian, Gerudo, or Ordonian, and neither are they made for it. Years of no Light petrifies anything of the Light Realm. It had been happening to him; he would have never been Twili, but neither would he ever quite be fully human again.

Tucking the robe closer to my body, I banish the thoughts from my mind. All that matters now is finding a way home, and there is no way here in the desert. I know of course Princess Zelda has resources, but even then, will it be enough? Even with her extensive control of sorcery and other sorcerers, she would no doubt have very little to do with anything Twilight.

"Feeling rather stoic?" His voice jolts me from my thoughts, and I catch a smirk on his face out of the corner of my eye. The sun has near reached the horizon, and I can feel the beginnings of heat creeping into the desert wind.

"It wouldn't matter either way, would it? None of your business!" I huff between tight lips, tugging the robe around myself a bit tighter. It wasn't made for protection, just for decoration, but in the coming desert I have no other way to hide from the sun. "Let's just keep walking. We still have darkness we can use."

He casts a critical eye in my direction, folding his massive arms. "And risk getting caught where the sun shines on the sand like a mirror? No, I don't think so. The only shelter for a good ten miles is this right here," he motions to a pile of rubble and tent poles strewn over the ground nearby, "And I doubt you want to roast like a cuccoo in the sun."

I have to concede. He's got me cornered this time. "I guess not... But it makes me nervous. All this stopping. I'm wasting time; my people need me."

"And I need sleep if I'm going to do the battle march across the desert, even if you don't, Twilight woman." The sand hisses as his feet kick it across the stones of the rubble, and I marvel at how well these ruins have held up. They weren't new a good hundred years ago, and they certainly aren't now.

It appears to be the concave remains of an arch, the upper portion supported now only by one of the enormous beams. Carvings in Gerudo riddle the sides, though they are in a dialect I cannot read. More than likely warnings from the pictograms; pictures of people impaled on spears and giant scorpions. "I'm assuming your people stayed here before they toppled."

"Perhaps." I glance in his direction, where he's settled into an indentation in the sand beneath the arch. "When I was still part of them, we were a nomadic people, chasing the best of the leevers and the water over the desert. I was often told of their sedentary predecessors, of the great fortresses they built. They were like giants to me, as a child."

I run a hand over the stone letters as I settle down across from him, enamored with the details. "But what could make them change their ways so suddenly?"

He shrugs, hand waving dismissively. "It was never spoken of. I suppose if I had stayed on longer, I would have been taught, as much of our... ah, less admirable times of history. The scattering of the One Family was part of that period, and I think Nafira was ashamed of it." He chuckles, and I cock an eyebrow at him. "Nafira was ashamed of much, I suppose, being my teacher."

"I can't say I know much of the Gerudo royalty, surprisingly. As a candidate for Twilit, I learned about Hylian government, and where the great Shiekah of west came from, and how they serve the Hylian system, and why the Ordonians do not include themselves in Hyrule, but the Gerudo are very much a mystery to me." I pull the robe closer to my face, glowing eyes casting light across my knees in the still dim light of dawn. "Which is strange considering your people kept watch over the Mirror for so long."

He looks off into the sands for a good few minutes, hands draped across in relaxed position. It's comical on him, such an informal, simple, human gesture that I puzzle over it. He's such a big man, like the Power he once held made him grow beyond his boundaries. I never saw him as a man, a person, before, because of his actions, of the way he behaved, as though he wanted people to think him some sort of specter or demon. What was there to gain from destroying Hyrule? Ganondorf would never have explained, but this man... He was not the same.

But I steel myself; I can't allow him to get to me. I know he is a monster. I've seen what he's done to my people, and no one with any semblance of a heart or even a conscience could wreak that kind of devastation and pain. It boggles my mind, to think that people exist capable of such things, but what do I know? The Realm of Twilight was a shelter; our ancestors were thieves and murderers, but very few humans in this world were as unafraid of danger as the Twili are.

"The Hylians call me king, but that is far from what I was." My attention snaps back to him when he speaks again, and I focus once again on his face. He glances at me, then back at the sands. "The word we use to refer to the male Gerudo is more akin to brother, I suppose, or teacher. There have been Gerudo men before that misused their position, but in essence, we do very little ruling and much more record keeping."

"So you're a glorified librarian," I say, grinning at the thought, but he shakes his head.

"It's a bit more than that. The king—or a closer translation is Son of the Sand—is responsible for maintaining tradition. He is the overseer of initiation rites, he asks the great goddess of the sun to bless births, he teaches the history and language of the Gerudo to the children." The expression on his face suggests he is struggling to explain, and I can understand. Explaining the position of Twilit is difficult, and I imagine this is as well.

He draws a circle in the sand, then another and another. They interlock, with a space in the middle being the only shared region. He points to the first and says, nearly to himself, "Imagine that there are three very broad jobs of the Gerudo. We have fighting, mostly in wars and defense, care of the home such as hunting and childrearing, and then knowledge keeping. No one Gerudo does all three; there are some that defend, and some that hunt, while others study history. All Gerudo are of course raised to fight, but not all of them do so as their main duty to our people."

He motions to where the circles all connect. "One does, however, and that is the Son of the Sand. Once he reaches fourteen, he challenges another Gerudo to fight. If he can defeat her—the woman must be his senior by at least three years, and have achieved a rank higher than novice in defense—then he is considered an adult. He keeps track of all of the history of the Gerudo then, and shares it with his people. Before his coming of age day, he learns a good deal of it, but as long as fourteen years is, he will have not learned it all by adulthood."

"Then your people are a strange one, to have carried the meaning of king so far from what it was," I remark, tapping the stone wall.

"No, that was the Hylians. They have this strange misconception that to be single is to rule, I suppose. Or else they believe that the women of my race are weak and must be carried by a man. They are queendom, so I still do not understand much of their patriarchal ideas on this." He frowns, rubbing the circles away.

A voice suddenly sounds behind him, and I turn to the side to look up the blade of a very sharp sword, held by a very tall, very muscular woman in a wrap of scarves and cotton the color of sand. "Looks like we agree on that much, Ganon. The males usually are the weakest." The Gerudo woman behind Ganondorf to whom the voice belongs grins like a skeleton, her black clothes making her appear like death. "It's a good thing I've found you, or you might have died in the desert. Amiran! Help the shadow woman up. I think a visit to camp is in order."


	5. A Darkened Door

"And so Midna pulls me out of the way of the Light creature, but it's too fast for her. Thing gets her with its claws really badly, and then manages to crush her against me on the ground." Link takes a long pull from his whiskey and sets it back on the table again. His hands are curled around the back of the chair, seated backwards in order to balance his elbows on the back. "I guess it had some sort of realm skipping powers, because it tears a hole in Twilight like it's nothing and just sort of tosses us through."

Eyes heavy with a night of no sleep, Colin sits perched on the bed with his fingers clutching his knees. Sometime last night his back froze in its position, and his spine hurts something awful, but the story Link has woven has been nothing if not awe inspiring. He stretches a bit, still enamored with the story, and rubs his eyes. "What did you do then? Did Midna fall through with you?"

Links frowns, tapping his chin in a thoughtful way. "I know she came through, but she didn't fall through in Ordon. At least not as far as I can tell. I don't know what kind of magic that thing was using, but it isn't anything I've ever seen, so she could be pretty much anywhere." He shrugs, brow furrowed in worry. "I just hope she's somewhere she can find shelter, because the sun isn't really a thing the Twili enjoy too much."

"And you really think it has something to do with Zant?"

"See, that's where it's just kind of speculation," says Link, sighing. "I know Ganondorf gave Zant the power to realm skip, but I don't know how he could have survived the fight. Goddesses, I barely did, and I won! But Ganondorf I know was sealed up pretty tight in the Shadow Realm, so how would Zant have the power to control a creature of Light? Like I said, Twili and Light don't go together too well."

Colin thinks about this for a good while. He doesn't remember much from the war; it was when he was younger, and he was unconscious or locked up for a good portion of it. Even after that, all of the kids were sheltered in Kakariko for the most part, and they weren't exactly loose with information concerning the fighting. The most he had gotten were rumblings of fighting in distant lands from the Gorons that came down to the village to trade.

Thoughtful, he asks, "Are you going again, then? To fight Zant and all them? Do you really have to?"

Links shrugs, standing and taking the empty glass to the counter. "I don't have to go after him, or at least whatever is trying to mess up Hyrule again, but it will eventually find me. It's not really a thing I can avoid, being chosen by the goddesses." He adds the last bit with acid bubbling in his voice as he sets the cups in the basin there without washing them.

Colin leans his head against his palms, tapping out a beat on the wooden floor with his foot. The goddesses are less celebrated in Ordon, so far from the hub of the goddesses and their temples, but Rusl has always been sure to pray to them on days of celebration, and when a particularly rich season comes around. The people of the village usually only keep shrines to Farore, however, as she is life and the goddess of the harvest. They have their regional goddesses as well, such as the goddess of the sun and the like.

But the triad of the goddesses? They never actually affect the world; they left long ago, back when people still remembered magic and before the great wave of demons destroyed the first civilization. Colin has heard of the myths of the great heroes, of course, as most people have. But they are that; just myths.

He frowns, watching Link stuff items into a leather bag, and allows his mind to wander away. Would that mean that great forest temple was to one of the goddesses? He has always assumed it had been to some unnamed heathen god, but then again...it is nameless, buried in the forest since before the Ordonians came to the land. Had Hylians been through before Ordon? And where had they gone?

"Ouch." Colin looks up to see Link examining the stitched tear in his side, grimacing as the stitches pull on his skin. "Your pa really got me good. We never used real swords when we sparred before, and now I'm glad of it. He has a sword hand like a true knight of the Hyrulian court."

"Yeah, I have more than one bruise on my shins because of him." Colin musters a weak smile and stands, clearing away the sewing needle and thread from the table to give his hands something to do. It takes him a moment to summon the courage to ask: "Does this mean war is coming to Hyrule again? Should I warn Pa about it?"

Link hesitates, pulling at the edge of his bloodied shirt, then takes a heavy breath. "I would...wait until I'm out of the village and across the bridge. I may be in the forest for some time, but I want to get out of Ordon before the uproar starts. They don't need me complicating matters and getting underfoot while they set up defenses."

For the first time, a flicker of doubt alights in Colin's chest. "But what if they do need you? You were on the front lines during the war. You did more than any of the knights of the castle did. You could help us set up barriers, plan for attacks, that kind of thing!"

The strained look on Link's face makes Colin feel just the slightest bit guilty, but he ignores the feeling, quashing it down in his stomach in order to speak again. "You know where Ilia went just a year or two after you left? She and a couple girls from Kakkariko all joined up with the Hyrulian army, got positions as message carriers. She comes home every so often, but you should see how worried her father is whenever we get wind of fighting or skirmishes. But we don't need a messenger right now, we need someone whose been fighting for real, who knows what kind of weapons the enemy has!"

Links grimaces. "Colin, I have to go, I really do! If there is a war coming, and one from the Twilight Realm, that means I didn't do my job right last time. Hyrule-"

By now Colin is standing, one hand against the beam of the house, scowling. His temper is not usually so easily riled, but tonight has been a whirlwind, and the thought that another war is coming makes his stomach hurt. "You grew up here! My parents, Ilia's pa, even Malo and Talo's treated you like one of their own! It never mattered you were Hylian instead of Ordonian! So why does it matter so much now?!"

"It has nothing to do with Hyrule or Ordon!" Link roars, his face red. He tears the top of his satchel open and slams something from within it on the table. It's a map of the Hyrulian provinces and surrounding areas, one torn and bloodied, with stains of ink around the edges. Someone has gone in and encompassed large areas in silver ink, marking others spots with black X's. With a quick hand, Link pins a knife from the kitchen counter right in the center of one of the silver outlined areas and jabs at it with a finger.

"Do you see that? That is one of the areas of Twilight that I had to get rid of last time. That's where I found you and the other kids for the first time. But you want to know what was so important of getting rid of it?" Link throws his hands up in the air. "It was spreading. Hyrule was the beginning. But I wasn't just trying to save Hyrule! I was trying to save everything! Do you know what would have happened if it had been left alone? The Twilight would have seeped through and destroyed everything. You didn't die when you were in the Twilight, but stay there too long and your soul literally dissolves."

Colin sneers, crossing his arms. "You seem pretty fine for having lived in it for seven years."

Keeping his gaze fixed on Colin, Link reaches down the collar of his shirt and tugs a leather thong from around his neck, throwing it to the table. Its woven around a perfectly round stone, the likes of which gleams with the faintest otherworldly glow, the soft light of the moon. "That's what kept me safe," he spits."And look at me. I still didn't get out unscathed. I'm not doing this for me, Colin, alright? You seem to have this bizarre idea that riding off into battle is a choice for me, like I enjoy it. It's a choice for anyone else, but I have to do it. I always do."

Colin hesitates, frowning. Then he tries again, "Then take me with you! I can help you! Pa taught me how to shoot and use a sword. I can even ride pretty well, even if we don't have any horses out here."

"Are you serious Colin?" The look Link gives him ranges anywhere between incredulous to infuriated. "Your pa would crucify if he thought I took you with me, even if you came back okay. Besides, I can't be dragging you all over the edges of creation looking for some monster that I might not even be able to fight."

"Which is why I could help you! If you do find this Zant character, or whoever's messing up the air this time, it could be a real bad fight! I know how to use a weapon. I could help." He feels a bit foolish, like a kid trying to fool a parent into letting them stay up late. "I'm so sick of being kept in the dark. It happened last time too, but this time I can do something about it!"

"You're staying! I'm not going to talk about this!"

Silence takes over save for the crackles of the fire. Light is just beginning to peak over the edge of the forest, and in the gray dawn, everything seems colorless, even with the orange light of the fire. They stand there glaring at each other, the hero and the country kid, neither of them wanting to be the one to speak first. Then link scowls, and snatches his satchel off the chair near the fire. "Go back to your pa and ma's and tell them to tell Fado about what's coming. I have to pack up and leave." He pauses. "Where's Epona?"

"Don't know." Colin pushes off the beam and crosses to the door. "She never came back."

Link continues to stare at the door long after Colin leaves, then sighs, and unhooks the bloody cloak from the wall.

XXXXXXXXX

"Go back to pa and ma's, right." Colin creeps through the underbrush in the soft leather traveling boots, back bent so as to remain hidden behind the bushes. He can see Link just a few yards away, filling a skin with water at the spring. His face is still contorted with seething rage from the fight, but the tension has left his body, and the anger only remains in his head. Colin has never seen him as angry as he had been up in the treehouse. He always remembered him as this unusually silent and somber character, though never intimidating or angry. Like the trees, in a way, like he thought talking was unnecessary.

But seven years is a long time. It can change people so easily. Seven years ago Colin was ten, and had never left Ordon. Now what? He was planning to go on some grand adventure across Hyrule like the heroes of old? But he knew he would be no use in Ordon, and he had to know just what was so horrifyingly dangerous that it could scare even Link like it did. Like it could threaten the entire world.

He stirs from his thoughts when he sees Link moving from the edge of the water. Once they crossed the bridge, maybe he would realize sending Colin back would be pointless. Faron woods had never been as safe as before the war since it ended, and he feels a little nervous even now, hiding in the bushes like an animal.

Following after through the trees, he watches Link follow the path down to the bridge. The chasm between Ordon and Hyrule yawns open like a great wound in the earth, fog and steam clouding any view he might have of the bottom. A river is supposed to flow beneath the bridge, but no one has ever climbed to see, and no one has ever wanted to.

The boards creak under Link's feet, and Colin watched him cross with some trepidation. He has to time this right; if he goes to early, then he'll be spotted. Too late, and he loses Link in the woods. Just as Link disappears into the trees on the other side, Colin skitters across the wooden bridge, ignoring the unhealthy creak of the ropes and wood as a slight breeze causes it to sway.

On the other side, it only takes a second to catch sight of Link again in the trees. He has stopped just inside of the forest, and it doesn't take Colin long to see why; a massive wall stretches along the path, a wall made of Twilight, throwing off a light the seems to be both cold and warm at the same time, bright and dim. Intricate designs and letters of a language he's never seen run along the edges, as though this ugly thing is supposed to be a monument, and not a barrier.

Colin's breath catches in his throat. Link is doing something at the base of the wall, muttering some strange words beneath his breath. He holds the stone in the leather thong in his hand, the dim glow overshadowed by the red orange light of the wall. This barrier is of the Twilight, that much Colin knows. He remembers the ugly, skin chilling glow, though his memories of the Twilight itself are sparing.

"Oh, there we go. These damnable doors..." With a hissing noise, a portion of the wall became like tinted glass, transparent, the color of the orange glow. Beyond, the land was covered in shadow, of the kind that came about during the near dark hours of the night. Twilight. It was Twilight of the purest kind, as though the doors to the Realm itself had opened up in the middle of Hyrule and flooded the land with its essence.

Links knots the bright stone back around his throat and hauls his satchel back up onto his back, and Colin draws closer, the bushes crackling beneath his feet. He freezes, afraid the sound has given him away, but Link shows no sign of having heard him. Instead, he reaches out a hand to the Twilight, to the glass door he made and touches, lays the flat of his palm against it. For a moment, nothing happens. Colin sits in silent apprehension, watching Link with his outstretched hand against the door.

Then, with a hissing noise, Link pushes through the transparent layer. It bubbles around him, like it's made of magma and not glass, and then suddenly he is inside, his silhouette just barely visible through the tinted transparency of the glassy door. From this side, all Colin can see is a blurry shape, made less obvious by the darkness of the Twilight. The shape remains static for a moment, then begins to move off into the distance.

Shaking himself from his surprised stupor, Colin pulls himself out of the bushes, untangling his quiver from the branches. The door is closing, the upper edge slowly coming back to meet with the ground. He has to get through it - what did Link do? He lays his hand against the Twilight, the milky cold the texture of pliable glass. For a little more than a minute, he feels that coldness against his palm. Then it warms under his hand, and suddenly he breaks through, the liquid glass heaving around him like a frozen ocean. He can tell it doesn't want him to enter; the Twilight rejects the heat in his skin, the very living essence in his bones. Humans aren't welcome in the Twilight. But he forces himself through. Pushes through the skin and into the Twilight.

Burning. It feels like he is burning. At the same time he is consumed by a cold so utterly full that it finds its way into his heart and chills him from the inside out. It hurts like the goddesses themselves have descended to punish him. He's never felt this before, not when he was trapped in the Twilight before, not like this.

_Farore, Nayru, and Din! Colin!_

Someone's voice? There are a million voices in his head, all swirling around like a storm, sticking his brain with white hot needles. Something grabs his arm and it's like a burning whip coiled itself around his skin. He screams; at least he thinks he does, because he can't see anything or hear anything save for the voices.

_I told you to stay behind! I knew this would happen!_

Stay where? Where was he? What was happening?

_You are seriously doing this! I can't believe it. Stop thrashing!_

Something touches his throat. It burns again, but the hot burning of real fire, not this unnatural coiling monster. The heat spreads through the rest of his body, killing the Twilight fire, until his sight and hearing returns, and he gasps, stumbling down to the ground. Link has a hold of the leather thong now tied around his neck, and sits down heavily next to him, refusing to let go. The darkened world around him is fuzzy with his own dizziness, his stomach making back and forth motions.

"Three kinds of hellfire, Colin!" Colin can see Link's face now, see the outrage and worry blazing in his blue eyes. He keeps his hold on the bright stone, leaving it pressed against Colin's chest as he riles through the bag on the ground beside him. "When I told you to stay home, I meant stay home and don't follow me! Why does no one ever listen to me?" He pulls something from the bag; it's a loaf of bread. Tearing a chunk off of it, he hands it to Colin. "Eat. If you don't, after that, you'll get really sick."

Colin obeys meekly, nibbling on the end of the bread, not looking his older friend in the face. Link busies himself with pulling a map from his bag, swearing heartily into the hood of his bloody cloak. His one hand remains clasped around the stone though, making it for an awkward position, with Colin curled against the wall of the valley surrounding the pathway and Link crouched next to him, balanced on the balls of his feet.

"This is exactly why I told you not to follow." His voice is thick with anger, but the tinge of relief edges his words, letting Colin know his anger does not overwhelm his concern. "If you were just here when it came, it would have been fine. But doorways into the Twilight will kill you if you don't have a Sol stone. And even if it doesn't you should never come into one of these places, ever. Goddesses, you're lucky I stopped to check on my supplies or else I would have been too far ahead."

"Saw you go through...thought I could sneak in after." Colin's mouth is sticky, his throat rasping. He coughs, trying to dislodge his words, then speaks again. "You told me you couldn't do Twilight magic."

Link snorts, pulling a map from the satchel. "Hardly magic. Just a key Midna gave me after we arrived in the Twilight Realm. Helped me get in some of the older rooms of the palace, sort through some of the books there. Worked on finding a way home for a long time."

"And you never did?"

"Not one that wasn't shattered. Here, unfold this, will you?" He offers one of the corners of the map to Colin and it folds out into a large yellow brown square. It's the same map from the night before, and Link smooths it out on the ground with his free hand. "I can't take you back home, unfortunately. That door will only work with that key once, and I don't have another one compatible with these kinds of doors."

"Why didn't you bring an extra?"

Link shoots him an irritated glare. "Well, I wasn't exactly planning on traipsing around a Hyrule covered in Twilight again when I was forcibly pushed into the Light World, hm?" He ignores Colin for a few minutes, tracing lines along the map with his free finger. Most of them seem to lead to Castletown, or else into the desert, but Colin knows very little about the lands outside of Ordon.

After a good five minutes of silence, Colin grimaces. "Why are you so against me helping? I'm here now, so there's not like you can do anything about it. Besides, I'm seventeen now. You were the same age when you save Hyrule last time."

"I'm not discussing this, Colin. I'm dropping you off in Kakkariko and then I have to go to Castletown and see if the Twilight has reached the Princess."

"Queen."

Link looks up, confused. "What?"

"She's the queen now. She has been for four or so years, after King Harkinian died from sleeping sickness." Colin crosses his arms, trying to push Link's hand away. It remains clasped around the Sol stone, but it earns him an angry look. "Expanded Castletown and set up defenses against attack. I don't know how effective it is against Twilight."

"That's all well and good, I guess, but if it has gotten to Castletown, Queen Zelda is still going to need me. Or at least she might like some help." He stuffs the map away, looking off along the pathway through the forest. "It's probably going to take a day or two to get to Kakkariko, maybe more, depending on how far the Twilight stretches. Considering how many monsters I ran into last time, I think we'll need to keep an eye open at all times. Don't let your guard down."

Colin scowled. "I'm young, not stupid."

"I know. But you are inexperienced." Link looks him up and down. "Colin, I'm not trying to be a bad guy here. I just want to make sure you're safe, because the goddesses know it would kill me and your parents if anything happened to you. Alright?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"That's about as good as it's going to get, I suppose." He hauls Colin to his feet, gripping the Sol stone in his hand. Colin notices how many thin pink scars cross over his hands, knuckles ribbed with puckered skin. "Once I let go of this, we're not going to be able to talk for a while. I'll need you to follow my lead while we're going up the path, because there will be monsters and they will, more likely than not, be willing to take your head off. Don't wander off on your own, don't go looking after anything that is in the slightest bit suspicious, and for Farore's sake, don't touch anything unless you know what it is."

"Okay, I get it!" Colin makes a face, then hitches his quiver up onto his shoulder. "Why won't we be able to talk? Does the Twilight do something to voices?"

Link shrugs. "Eh, you could say that. You'll get what I mean in a second. Here, can you hold this real quick?" He hands his bag to Colin, who takes it with a skeptical expression.

After a moment of trepidation, Link steps back and releases the Sol stone. He shivers, as though he's passed through a ghost, and grunts. "Ugh, I hate this part."

"Wait, there's nothing wrong with your voice." The last syllable dies on Colin's tongue as Link crumples to the ground, dark shadows gathering around him like a swarm of insects. It only lasts a second before he stands back up, shaking himself out, blowing hair out his mouth. He cocks and ear, sneezes, then rubs a paw down his face, growling softly.

It's a wolf. Colin can't think of a better term to describe the animal, though that isn't quite what it is. It's fur is earthy green, like moss grown over a frame to resemble an animal. The green is shot through with gold and black, a strange mottled combination that gives the wolf the look of an abstract tapestry, the white of its belly glaringly so. Its eyes glint so blue they nearly glow in the Twilight, the edges rimmed in brightest orange. Though it has the build of a wolf, it stands a good couple feet taller than a normal wolf, its hunched shoulder stopping just about mid stomach on Colin.

The wolf yawns and stretches, claws digging at the forest floor. Colin catches sight of its claws and his eyes go wide; they are like switchblades, black and sharp, like the talons of a hawk. Despite all this other wordly detail, he can't help but find this creature familiar, like something he saw in a dream...

"You're the wolf from Kakkariko!" The memories catch hold of Colin and he points excitedly down the road. "You used to range down through the town, and Talo would yell about it and scare everyone half to death. The Gorons used to tell stories about you, about how the wolf with the blue eyes was supposed to herald change." He stops short, frowning, brow furrowed. "But you look different."

The wolf shrugs, or ducks its head in a way that Colin guesses is shrugging. It tugs the bag out of his hands and wiggles through the strap so that it hangs around its middle like a saddlebag. Colin continues babbling, staring confusedly downward.

"Pa told me you came around the village after the bokoblins came through and kidnapped all the kids. Said you caused a fuss. Took a shield or something off the wall. I used to think, what would a wolf need with a shield? I guess this answers my question."

Link snorts, giving him a look that, even with the face of a wolf, is amused. Colin rolls his eyes. "Very funny. But you didn't tell me about this part."

Link shrugs again, poking his nose into the air, glancing up the road. He stays like this for a moment, then nods and motions up the path with a foreleg. Colin understands this much; we have to go. He agrees, refastening his traveling cloak, and starts up along the road after Link.

"Kind of reminds me of those stories pa told us about wolf men in the woods."

Link swings his head around to glance at Colin out of one eye, and if wolves smiled, Colin swears the the lackadaisical look on his face is a grin.


End file.
